DEZ

INT. THE BRANDT HOUSE—EVENING

DESMOND fusses with candles in the dining room. He lights them and blows them out five times. He paces around the house and runs his hands through his hair.

He goes to the closet and pulls out a blanket. Then, in the living room, he lays it out on the floor.

Giving up on the table and candles, I grab a blanket instead and put it on the floor. We’ll have a picnic, not over-the-top but still thoughtful and romantic. I want tonight to be special, but I don’t want to ruin it. Riley is getting spooked, I can tell. I told her I wouldn’t pressure her and I’ll live up to my word. I’ve come so far. I’m not going to mess it up now.

I put the Pad Thai, spring rolls, and wontons in the oven so they’ll stay warm. But who am I kidding? I doubt I’ll eat much of anything.

There’s a knock on the door and then Riley’s voice. “Hey, Dez. It’s me.”

She joins me in the kitchen. She looks beautiful. I love when she wears her hair down—it looks like silk. As I get closer, I can see that her eyes are glassy.

“Did you get Tru Thai?” She opens the oven. “It smells amazing. I’m starved.”

“Nothing but the best for you.” I lead her out to the living room.

Once again, I’m having trouble coming up with conversation. I keep busy, bringing out food and drinks, playing host. It’s awkward.

“Let’s eat,” I say, finally sitting down.

Riley does. She attacks the Pad Thai and has a smile on her face that doesn’t seem to leave. It relaxes me a little, but I find it a bit odd.

I’ve seen that look before. The summer after ninth grade, when I stole a twelve-pack from Bernie’s stash in the garage. I was freaking out because Mom had just told me that she and Bernie were getting married. I liked Bernie and all, but I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew it was coming—something bad. Like he had another family somewhere or had the IRS after him or was a closet druggie. He couldn’t be that perfect. Mom had been close before, and we’d seen all kinds.

Like with most of the important memories of my childhood, Riley was there. Those scenes are always perfectly clear. But as it plays in my brain, it looks like it was filmed with a hand-held camera. Jumpy and chaotic, but very intimate.

FLASHBACK SEQUENCE
EXT. BRANDTS’ DRIVEWAY—EVENING

DESMOND puts beer in his backpack, jumps on his bike, and heads off to the caves, a place by the river where kids drink, make out, and basically try to escape. RILEY follows on her skateboard.

RILEY
Dez, wait up. Wait.

CUT TO:

RILEY and DESMOND in the caves together, drinking beer and talking and laughing.

RILEY
(finishes her third beer)
Good things do happen, ya know.

DEZ
(shakes his head)
Maybe for you, Rye.

RILEY
(finishes her fourth beer)
Dez, you just need to believe
in the good.

DESMOND and RILEY chum it up like two guys who just got back from the war. They’re plastered.

CUT TO:

DESMOND AND RILEY weaving down the road on their bike and skateboard. With the occasional fall and laughing fit, it takes them forever to get home.

END FLASHBACK

Now, Riley’s eyes give her away. Drunk and dreamy, just like they were at the caves.

“Rye, were you drinking tonight?”

“Moi? I’m not that kind of girl, Dez.” She bats her eyes.

“Mmm hmmm. Maybe you’re not plastered like that night at the caves, but I’d say you’re happily buzzed right now.”

“I know, sorry. I just needed to take the edge off. With the festival and the scouts coming next weekend, I’m a wreck.” She chuckles, then proceeds to go into a hysterical laughing fit.

“Well, aren’t you Miss Romance,” I say, a little pissed. I want her to want me like I want her.

“I’m sorry, but this is crazy, isn’t it?” she says. “I mean, come on. Did you ever imagine being here? With me?”

“Well, not really,” I admit. I grab her hands, then, feeling them, so soft and small. “But I guess on some level, I’ve always hoped.”

Riley leans over and puts her lips on mine. In an instant, I’m turned on. I really don’t care about how we got here or where we’re going. All that matters now is that she wants me.

I kiss her back, long and deep, until my brain goes fuzzy.

Then Jonah’s questions begin to seep into my head and I start second-guessing myself.

What if she’s grossed out by kissing a guy? I’m definitely not soft or small or gentle. What if I’m too rough? What if she’ll never like it?

I pull away, and Riley’s eyes narrow.

“What is it?” She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“Shit. No, Rye, no. It’s perfect. I just need to catch up a little. Mind if I grab a drink?”

She motions with her hand. “Be my guest.”

I look in the cupboard above the fridge, where Mom keeps the booze. Beer won’t cut it tonight. The first row is Kahlua, amaretto, and a bunch of other girly mixes, but there in the back, way back, is a bottle of Bacardi.

“Hang on, Riley,” I shout out. “I have to get something from the garage.” I walk out slowly, letting the cool air calm me down. I search the garage refrigerator for a pop, taking my time.

When I’m finally ready, I mix up a Bacardi Coke, heavy on the rum, and go back to Riley.

She’s hunched over, head on the couch, sleeping.

I’m beginning to think it’s never going to happen with us. I kneel down beside her. “Riley?” I whisper, pushing her hair off her face.

“Emma?” she slurs.

“No, it’s me.” I rest my head on the couch while my heart breaks a little.

So much for that.

I go back into the kitchen and dump out my drink. I pick up Riley’s shoes and coat, stuff them under one arm, and use the other to throw Rye over my shoulder.

I carry her home.

When I get her in bed, I lean over and pull her shoes off. She has her hands on my shoulders, pulling me to her. I can feel her breath on my face and I want to taste it. Swim in it.

Riley has come to me. I don’t even care that she said Emma’s name earlier—there are bound to be some scars left after everything that’s happened. Even so, I feel that the pieces are finally in place. The stars have aligned and all that crap.

I move to her, and that’s when I see it. That look again. Fear. That crushing look that tells me it’s not going to work. Not this way. Not tonight. That’s a line I won’t cross.

So, nothing happens. But as I pull away Riley says, “Stay, Dez. Stay.”

I do.

On top of her covers.

I’m so pathetic.